


Haircut

by Firegirl210



Category: Sparks Nevada Marshal on Mars, The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Cheesy, Haircuts, M/M, This is tropeish I know, nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3427847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firegirl210/pseuds/Firegirl210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparks needs a haircut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haircut

**Author's Note:**

> A night vale reference may or may not have slipped in here. Oops.

“Pfff.”

_Flick_.

“Pffff.”

_Flick_.

“Pfff--”

“Sparks Nevada, you have now repeated the same pattern of physical gestures seventeen times in the last thirty seven of your minutes. Does something ail you?”

“What? What’re you talkin’ about, Croach?”

“You exhale carbon dioxide forcefully and jerk your head to one side.”  
“I what now?”

“You exhale carbon--”

“No, no, I _heard_ you, but I don’t --pfff-- know what yer talkin’ about.”

“You literally just did the thing which I am explaining to you, Sparks Nevada.”

“What thing?”

“The-- the--” Croach blew a short burst of air from his lips and jerked his head sideways. Sparks scoffed.

“I’m not doin’ that.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I think I’d notice” _flick_ “if’n I was.”

“You did it again.”

“Are you messin’ with me here?”

“To what purpose?”

“I dunno -- pfff-- maybe--”

“There! You blew air at your own face!”

Sparks froze, and a long lock of orangeish hair curled into his eyes. He flicked it away with a quick motion of his head, and Croach pointed triumphantly at the Marshal.

“Winner!”

“What? You didn’t win anything, my hair’s just in my face. It’s gettin’ long, I been trying to get it outta my eyes, I didn’t notice I was doin’ it.” He took off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it tousled and wild.

“Do you require a trimming of your head fur?”

“Head fu--just call it hair, Croach.”

“Do you require a trimming of your head fur which you designate hair?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s about time,” he decided, scratching his scalp thoughtfully. Croach cleared his throat.

“It would decrease my onus to you if you would allow me to assist you.”

Sparks squinted mistrustfully at the Martian.

“You think you wanna cut my hair?”

“It is not a matter of desire, Sparks Nevada, but of convenience. You would be expected to exchange currency for the human designated Telly the Barber’s services would you not?”

“Well yeah but--”

“I would not require any of your currency for performing the same service to you. It would be a financially sound decision.”

“Have you ever cut a human’s hair before Croach? It ain’t as easy as it looks.”

“If you must know, I often assisted The Red Plains Rider in the semi-annual trimming of her head fur--”

“Hair.”

“--which you designate hair, yes. She could not reach the back.”

“Really? I mean I guess it don’t make much sense to pay Telly fer a job you can do fer free, huh?”

“That is basically what I said.”

“Well I’ll find the good set of scissors then. You don’t mind doin’ it now, while we’re thinkin’ on it?”

“I am quite unoccupied at the current time.”

Sparks dug around in the desk drawer for a pair of non-rusty scissors, handing them over and seating himself at the desk. He got settled, suddenly a little nervous.

“Just a trim now, Croach.”

“I will endeavor to recreate your signature head fur pattern, if you wish.”

“Yeah, do that.”

Croach’s hands were gentle as he combed through the Marshal’s thick hair, and Sparks allowed himself to relax a little. If he could trust the Martian with his life, then surely he could trust him with this. Then the brisk snip of the shears around his ears made him tense sharply again. Please god don’t let this be how I die.

“You have no cause for anxiety, Sparks Nevada. I will be cautious.”

“I ain’t nervous.”

“The tautness of your muscular structures and the cessation of your exhalation would indicate stress.’

“‘M fine, Croach, just get on with it.”

“I plan to do so.”

Sparks crossed his arms and stayed stubbornly tense beneath the Martian’s touch. Croach clipped the straggling curls at the nape of the Marshal’s neck, trimmed the long sweep of his bangs, evened out the barrier between stubble and sideburn. He spun the chair around, leaning close to the Marshal as he checked the lines of his work. Sparks felt his heart pulsing in his fingertips and fought the urge to turn his face away from Croach’s (totally gross) closeness, knowing that overreacting would make everything unbearably weird and awkward. Croach put his hands on both sides of his square jaw, turning his head back and forth to closely observe the fall of the human’s hair, and Sparks didn’t breathe for fear of inhaling the Martian’s breath that fell on his face. Croach pushed his fingers through the tuft of his bangs gently.

“Your head fur is the second most pleasing head fur I have ever touched.”

“Don’t make it weird, man.”

“How does quantifying my experience make it weird?”

“Because yer all up in my business and it’s weird, alright?”

“You are referring to my physical closeness?”

“Sure, yeah, whatever.”

“Do you wish for me to allow more space between us?”

“Just-- are you done?”

“Nearly.”

“Then just finish so I can get back to work, mkay?”

A few brief snips and Croach dropped the scissors on the desk, brushing his hands off.

“I have finished, reducing my onus to you significantly.”

Sparks shook himself off and stood, checking himself in the mirror. He allowed a cocky grin.

“Not bad. I’d reckon I look even better’n I did after my last cut with Telly.”

Croach’s antennae straightened proudly. “It pleases me that you experience the human emotion designated satisfaction with my services, Sparks Nevada.”

Sparks preened for another minute before clapping his hat atop his head and drawing his laser pistols at his reflection. He decided he’d shown off enough and returned to his desk, kicking his boots up.

“Yer gonna have to be under onus to me forever so’s I don’t have to pay for haircuts anymore,” he teased, and Croach glanced his way almost...shyly? God Sparks hoped not.

“I would repeat the service whether I was under onus to you or not, should you have need of my assistance in the future.”

Sparks hid his surprise with a snort. “Leave it to a Marjun to get all over-emotional about a haircut.”

“I am not over-emotional, I do not experience human--”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted, and sighed heavily.

“I’d like that, Croach.”

**  
**


End file.
